


Second Place

by ALittleGranny



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Australian Sole Survivor, Bisexual Female Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Mental Health Issues, One-Sided Relationship, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleGranny/pseuds/ALittleGranny
Summary: Second place was one of the worst places to be. First place grew proud, then placid. Last grew determined, then despondent. But second? Second stagnated in a strange sense of self-doubt. Not in last place, but too close to first to stop trying.And man, was Hancock tired of trying.





	1. Chapter 1

Daisy lifted her head when Hancock crossed the threshold of her shop. The pale yellow and blue linoleum tiles were as spotless as they could be for their age. Shelves were stocked, labeled, and dusted. Even the service bell on her counter appeared polished as the dim fluorescent light overhead gleamed off the rusted metal. Daisy lifted the bell as she dragged a cloth across her already pristine counter and heaved a sigh. “Can’t pay you this month,” she said with a shake of her head. Instead of looking at Hancock, she focused on rubbing a stain on the counter.

Hancock leaned against the doorway and folded his arms. Daisy was one of the good ones. One of the few people he could trust in Goodneighbor. Had anyone else made such a claim, he would have called bullshit. He already did with Makowski and Fred Allen when they claimed business was slow. But Daisy? The girl never missed a payment since Hancock took the title of mayor. “I’ve noticed the town coffers are a little bare lately. It ain’t the off-season either.”

Daisy hummed in agreement and started on wiping down the cash register. Which was already clean as well. “Hard to make a profit with all my customers running away the second they walk in,” Daisy replied dryly.

“Have you tried wearing lipstick?”

“Ha! It ain’t me they’re running from.” Daisy folded the cloth and set it behind the shop counter. “That jackass Finn takes up right over there” — she pointed to the dilapidated stone wall outside her shop — “and waits for drifters he can scare out of a few caps.”

Hancock’s ruined lips drew into a thin line. “I told him to cut that shit out.” Finn could be difficult to reason with, but not impossible. The guy was second to none against super mutants; he saved Goodneighbor against hordes of them several times. Yet, in recent months, something changed with Finn. It was gradual, but clear as day when compared to the Finn Hancock first met. Finn always itched for a fight. That did not change. The type of fight he wanted did. Before, he’d go hunt down super mutants and raiders for the hell of it. Just to give them a reason to stay away from Goodneighbor. Nowadays, he barely lifted a finger unless there was something in it for him. Fahrenheit suggested Finn was strung out on Jet, making him lazy. Another theory was the Institute had replaced Finn. The chems seemed most likely.

The lamp light outside Daisy’s store buzzed in the misty morning air. Daisy rested her forearms on the counter and clasped her hands together as she watched the lamp flicker. “Word’s getting around. Caravans and traders are steering clear unless they got firepower. Even then—” Daisy shrugged “—Finn picks off the smaller groups. They don’t want a fight.”

Hancock hummed in agreement. “Last time you got a trader in?”

Her brows furrowed, and she pursed her pale lips. “A week? Maybe. Time all runs together when you get to be my age.” Daisy pushed a button on her cash register and the drawer popped open with a metallic clatter. She produced a small, yellow, notebook and flipped through the pages. She dragged a boney finger down a neatly written table documenting her sales. “Trader from Bunker Hill. February 6th. Bought some clothes, liquor, and Med-X.”

“Almost a month,” Hancock concluded.

“Everything else I’ve been selling has been local. Can’t make much profit off people here.” Daisy pushed the notebook across the counter and tapped a manicured nail on the caps column. “Most caps come from outside.”

Hancock skimmed the opened page of the notebook and nodded in agreement. He passed the notebook back to Daisy. “I’ll have my guys keep a look out for Finn,” he said and started toward the front of the shop. “You’ll be back in caps by lunch.”

Daisy offered a weak smile but said nothing. Hancock tipped his hat and left Daisy to her idle cleaning.

—

Maintenance projects never ended in a town with buildings over four hundred years old and survived a nuclear war. Maybe there would be fewer problems if any of the lowlifes that ran Goodneighbor before him bothered with that shit. The number of requests tripled in the months after Hancock took office simply because the citizens realized he would do something. Hancock tried to address at least one or two requests a day. Not fix them, but at least get the gears in motion so someone could fix them.

Hancock took a sip of coffee from that stupid mug Fahrenheit gave him. At one point, the mug said ‘World’s Greatest Mayor’. At first, someone crossed out the word ‘Greatest’ and scribbled ‘Okayest’ beneath it. A few months later, ‘World’s’ was replaced with ‘Goodneighbor’s’. Hancock was not sure if that implied that there was another mayor he did not know about, or if it was a statement about the previous. At the end of the day, the mug had no cracks, and it kept his coffee warm. Warm coffee and a sweet roll made going through the maintenance requests a little more pleasant.

He set the mug on his desk and shuffled through a short stack of papers. The oldest item, dated three days ago, was a request from Rufus. Some pipes needed replacing and it would not be cheap. In Rufus’s words, the pipes might last another day or another decade.. But there was evidence of corrosion that needed addressing if the Rexford wanted to continue having running water. Hancock slid the paper into the ‘Maybe’ pile. Needed to look into the other issues before he emptied the towns coffers into a non-urgent project.

Next request was from Morowski, complaining about a leaky faucet. Hancock tossed the request into a trash bin by his desk. Bastard could fix his own faucet. With the shit Morowski suggested, Hancock wondered if the guy was just messing around for kicks. Seemed like the immature stuff he would do in his free time.

Heavy footsteps on the spiral staircase outside his office drew his attention away from the papers. Fahrenheit caught his gaze and stopped in the middle of the staircase. “Finn’s at it again,” she called matter-of-factly.

Hancock groaned and got to his feet, his desk chair scraping against the worn wood floors as he stood. “I’m on it.” He took his duster from the back of his chair and shrugged it over his shoulders. If Finn wanted trouble, then that’s exactly what Hancock would give him.

Fahrenheit leaned against the brick side wall of Kill or Be Killed and took a long drag of her cigarette. There was a sparkle to her eyes that only showed when she anticipated a shit show. Given how the few drifters outside the Statehouse all had their heads turned to the gates, they were expecting the same. “Finn picked the wrong target,” Fahrenheit stated with a hushed tone and a sadistic smirk.

Hancock’s eyes widened when he glanced at the gate. A super mutant clutching a blood stained mini-gun loomed a few feet in front of Finn. Alongside the super mutant, dwarfed in comparison, was a young woman with pixie-like features and a pretentious gaze. Unflinching, she planted herself in front of the mutant and stared Finn down like he was nothing. Almost like something amused her.

With quiet steps, Hancock joined Fahrenheit against the wall and retrieved a cigarette from pack in his coat. “Wrong target, indeed.”

Finn, however, heeded none of the warning signs. Even from a distance, Hancock could tell something was wrong with him. Something about the way his head tilted a little to the right and his fingers twitched. “Listen lady,” Finn started, sounding annoyed, “first time in Goodneighbor? Can’t be walking around without insurance. Otherwise, accidents start happening to you. Big. Bloody. Accidents.”

The woman planted a hand on her hip and cocked her head at Finn. The grin on her face grew like it was all a joke to her. “Aww, aren’t you a cutie,” she drawled with an accent Hancock could not quite place. “Does your mum know you’re out?”

Fahrenheit let out an un-ladylike snort as she tried to hide a chuckle. Finn did not seem nearly as amused. He lit a cigarette and stared the woman down. “Three hundred caps.”

The woman raised her brows. “You serious?”

“Another hundred for the big guy.” Finn gestured to the super mutant with the glowing red tip of his cigarette.

The super mutant growled and nudged the woman’s upper back with his elbow. “Stop talking and smash him.”

The woman shushed him and made a gesture like she was closing a zipper. Few people in the Commonwealth got away with treating a super mutant like that. Hell, most people who even looked at a super mutant wrong ended up in a meat sack. When the mutant did not make another comment, the woman returned her attention to Finn and crossed her arms. “You best pull your head in before you lose it, _mate_.”

The super mutant’s face lit up at the threat of violence and he re-adjusted his grip on his mini-gun.

Fahrenheit tilted her head towards Hancock. “Might be a good time for you to step in, Mayor,” she said with a chuckle.

Hancock smoothed his hands over his coat and felt the outline of his switchblade in the pocket. Good to have, he thought. Just in case things got messy. In Goodneighbor, things always got messy.

“Total’s four hundred caps,” Finn stated and exhaled a lungful of stoke in the woman’s direction.

Hancock felt a frown tug on his lips as he took a few steps forward. Not close enough to get Finn’s attention, but enough to better gauge the situation. The woman, however, noticed the movement and glanced at him with narrowed eyes. Like a warning. Like she was trying to deter him from getting involved.

The woman rolled her eyes to Finn. “I don’t have time for this. We’ll be gone in five” — she tossed a glance at the super mutant —  “Strong, stay there.”

With heavy, confident, steps, the woman marched past Finn without so much as a look of acknowledgement. Like he was not worth even a cautionary glance.

A bulky hand latched around the arm of her leather jacket. Finn tossed the cigarette to the damp ground. “Not so fast, sweetheart,” he said and yanked the woman towards him.

Without hesitation, the woman threw her fist across his face with practiced confidence. There was an audible, sickening, crack. Redness spread across his face as blood dripped from his surely broken nose. Finn took a staggering step back with a hand over his nose to catch the blood.

The woman shook out her fist. “You touch me again,” she said, “it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Finn spat a mouthful of blood onto the cobblestone street along with a tooth and sneered. “You fucking bitch.” He lunged at her. He hooked his fingers into the back of her leather chest piece. She stumbled at the unexpected weight and Finn threw her down against the street. “You think you can pull that shit with me, huh?” he said placed his boot over her throat, keeping her down.

“Hey!” Hancock’s voice echoed off the old brick buildings.

Finn glanced up from his quarry with blood from his nose coating his mouth and chin. “Stay out of this, Hancock.”

Without breaking his stride, Hancock slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped the switchblade. “Someone walks through the gate for the first time, they’re a guest,” Hancock said and flipped open the blade still concealed by his coat. “Let her go.”

Finn drew a pipe pistol from his belt, appearing unbothered by the woman struggling under his boot. Bastard would suffocate her before he shot her at this rate. The super mutant took a lumbering, limping, step forward and Finn shot him a look. “Another step and she gets it,” he snapped.

The mutant stopped and watched as his companion clawed at Finn’s pant leg. He growled and pounded his bulky fist twice against his chest in a display of dominance. “Coward human,” he taunted, “get Strong first.”

The pipe pistol whipped towards the super mutant. Strong was his name, based upon what Hancock gathered. “You trying to protect your little friend here?” Finn used the barrel of his gun to point at the woman.

The mutant bared his teeth but did not take another step. Instead, he stared at the woman and tightened his grip on the mini-gun.

If Hancock did not act soon, there would be more than one death at Goodneighbor’s doorstep.

“Let her go,” Hancock commanded. He circled closer to Finn with his switchblade gripped tight in his hand. “Now, Finn.”

Finn whipped his head towards Hancock. There as a look in his eyes that was far too familiar, and it made Hancock’s stomach twist. Psychobuff. As if psycho was not bad enough. The combination could turn the most experienced users from men into monsters. Great for a fight in the Wasteland. Not for a community. Not in his town.

Finn’s eye seemed to twitch. “What d’you care? She ain’t one of us,” he said with his boot still pressed beneath her jaw.

Redness colored the woman’s tanned face as the veins around her forehead bulged. She made another attempt to yank Finn from her only to have more weight put on her delicate throat. If the bastard was gonna kill her, why did he have to drag it out? Her eyes darted towards him, wide and panicked, begging him to do something.

Aggression would not work on Finn in his string out state. It would just make things worse. Hancock lowered his blade and tried a friendly tone. “No love for your mayor, Finn?” He opened his arms wide and took a two careful steps toward him. “Let her go.”

“You’re soft, Hancock,” Finn spat. “You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day, there’ll be—“

Two gunshots crackled through the stale air like fireworks. If Hancock had blinked, he would have missed it. Even a few seconds later, he was not quite sure he saw it. The woman knelt on the ground, gasping for breath, with a .44 revolver pinned beneath her hand. Across from her, Finn; a knife in the back of his knee and bullets embedded in his face and chest. The woman gingerly rubbed her throat and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath.

The super mutant limped towards her. Only when he turned did Hancock notice the blood soaked through the armor on his left leg. “Strong make sure he dead,” he said.

The woman held up her hand, and the mutant stopped. “He is,” she croaked and then coughed.

Hancock blinked away his shock. “Ah, shit,” he muttered, “are you okay?” He offered a hand to help her to her feet. Not that she needed it, but after what she went through, it was a nice gesture. Few people could stab and shoot a man in under five seconds after nearly suffocated. Tough as nails that one. Probably a raider or a mercenary.

To his surprise, she took his hand. “I’m fine. Thanks, mate,” she said. Thread thin tattoos wrapped around two of her fingers like rings. The ink was fine and neat, unlike most tattoos people got in the Commonwealth these days. The tattoos combined with her accent told him she was not the typical drifter that wandered through his town.

Hancock pulled her to her feet. “You ain’t from around here, are you?”

“What gave that away?” She rubbed her throat and looked at him. Her sharp, small, eyes met his for a split second before she looked away. Typical reaction to a ghoul and it made his heart sink. At least she did not scream.

Hancock stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, “your accent, mostly. Plus you seem a bit too clean and pretty for these parts.” He flashed his signature John Hancock smile he always used to charm the ladies. It was not a lie. The Commonwealth scarred or maimed most in one way or another. Except for a thin scar on the side of her nose, she appeared untouched.

Before she could reply, the super mutant gripped the woman by the shoulders and turned her to face him. He lifted her chin with and scrutinized the boot print left on her neck. His hum sounded like a growl. “Leader hurt,” he observed. “Ghoul. Help Leader.”

The woman batted Strong’s hands away. “Let’s take care of you first,” she said and glanced at his injured leg.

“Strong fine.” Strong limped back a few feet and retrieved his mini-gun. With his back turned, Hancock could see clear punctures through his metal armor. Bite marks. Too small to be a Deathclaw. Yet, too large for the average Commonwealth mongrel. A mutant hound bite if Hancock had to venture a guess.

Hancock made a face when he realized that the bits of cloth beneath Strong’s armor were not black, but dark red. “Yeah, you look like you could see a doctor,” he remarked.

Strong dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand and a growl.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Working on his manners,” she said. “Mayor Hancock, was it?”

Hancock tipped his hat. “At your service,” he said with a grin.

“Sasha,” she introduced herself without even looking at him. “Thanks for distracting him” — she cocked her thumb towards Finn’s lifeless body on the cobblestone — “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Hancock replied and realized a moment too late she could take his words as flirtation. Not the right time for that. “Hope this incident doesn’t taint your view of our little community. Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone’s welcome.”

“I feel ya, mate,” she said with little sincerity to her tone.  “We need meds if you got ‘em. And a place to stay.”

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you? I like that.” Hancock pulled the knife from the back of Finn’s leg and wiped off the blade before he returned it to the woman. “Let’s get you set up in the Rexford ‘round the corner. I’ll show you.”

The woman took the blade and stashed it in the small leather bag slung around her shoulders. “Thank you, Mayor Hancock.” Before she followed, she ducked around the super mutant’s right side and lifted his big green hand onto her shoulder.

“Bah. Strong don’t need help.” Strong yanked his hand away and almost toppled over.

Undeterred by the mutant’s protests, the woman clapped his hand onto her other shoulder so his arm wrapped around her. She was far too short to support him like any other wounded man, but she offered a crutch at the very least. “Strong, if you fall over, I can’t help you back up.”

“Leader should work out more. Eat meat. Make Leader strong.”

“Call this my work out,” she said. “Lean on me and make me strong.”

The mutant seemed to accept this logic. With that, they followed behind Hancock at a decent pace. Even though it was a short distance, Hancock offered to help with the super mutant if he could. The mutant tossed his mini gun on the ground and told Hancock to pick it up, then laughed when he did. What the mutant found funny, he did not understand.

As he lifted the mini gun, he caught Fahrenheit’s gaze and bemused smirk. At least, he knew what Fahrenheit found funny. And he was sure he would not hear the end of it any time soon.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This took a while but I should have a more consistent schedule in the future!

“Uh-uh. No way.” Clair rounded to the front of the receptionist’s counter at the Hotel Rexford with a pipe pistol in a wrinkled hand. “Get that thing out of my hotel.” She waved the weapon in Strong’s direction, like it could fan the super mutant from the establishment. 

Hancock crossed his arms and strolled between Clair and Goodneighbor’s most recent guests. Sasha and Strong had enough trouble for one day. A place to stay was the least he could do. 

“Whose hotel?” Hancock raised his brows at Clair. She was a good woman. A take charge sort and take no shit sort. It was one of the reasons he let her run the Rexford. Hell knew the staff needed a firm hand. 

Clair scoffed and said, “Don’t pull that shit now. How often are you in here? Can’t call this place yours when you don’t even run it.”

“Yet, I pay your wages,” he countered. He adjusted his grip on Strong’s minigun before it slipped from his hands.

A giggle sounded from a sofa pressed against the leftmost wall. Fred Allen, eyes beet red and expression a million miles away, pointed roughly towards Clair. “He got you there,” he drawled. Fred leaned his head back against a cushion while he inhaled a lungful of Jet. “Marowski don’t pay shit.”

“Shut the hell up, Allen,” Clair snapped without so much of a glance. 

Sasha adjusted Strong’s arm across her shoulders. “I’ve got caps,” she said. “We only need to stay a few days. Just until the big guy can walk right again.”

“Strong walk fine.” Strong pulled his arm away from Sasha as if to demonstrate his point. Instead, he stumbled into Hancock. 

Hancock dropped the mini-gun and caught the super mutant before he hit the floor. The bastard was heavy. Heavier than he expected. The metal armor on top of the super mutant’s sheer bulk did not help matter. Hancock willed his knees not to buckle under Strong’s weight. How the hell did Sasha manage walking him across town? 

Thankfully, Sasha the “super human” resumed her position as Strong’s crutch. “He’s good. You have my word,” Sasha pleaded.

Clair glanced at the super mutant and then to Hancock. With a heavy sigh, she pocketed her pistol. “Lucky you came in with the Mayor,” she said and gestured for them to meet her at the counter. Clair rummaged through a drawer behind the counter and retrieved a key. A worn, white, paper tag dangled from the keychain with the number 213 written in faded black ink. “Only room I got. One bed. He’s” — Clair pointed a boney finger at Strong — “with you or in the room. Anything else and people might not react well, if you know what I mean.”

Sasha nodded. “Gotcha.”

The usual price was fifty caps, but Clair charged a hundred without offering Sasha an explanation. Sasha did not ask for one. As if she quietly came to the same conclusion Hancock had: it was because of the super mutant. Goodneighbor and super mutant’s got along about as well as fire and gasoline. Great, for those who liked explosions and chaos. Not so much for those who wanted some peace and quiet.  At Clair’s age, she deserved some down time. Hancock did not argue the upcharge. Instead, he thanked Clair and followed his guests. 

Sasha stopped at the foot of the stairs and huffed. “Think you can do stairs, mate?” she asked and adjusted Strong’s arm across her shoulders.

“I can help,” Hancock offered before he thought to stop himself. Sasha was a twig. If Strong put too much of his weight on her, she would snap. 

“Ha!” Strong glanced over his shoulder. “Ghoul tiny. Can’t lift radroach,” he said, seemingly forgetting the fact that Hancock had prevented him from toppling into the ground like a roped brahmin just minutes before.

Hancock made a face. He was not a big guy. Not in height, in weight, or in muscle. But he was stronger than the average man. Something about the ghoulification process. He could not keep an ounce of fat on his body but his lean muscles worked like an Olympians. Not that a super mutant would know that. He let the comment slide. It meant lesswork for him. 

Sasha offered a sympathetic smile. “If you could get the door for us, that would be great.” With her free hand, she held out the key Clair had given her. She buckled down and wrapped one arm partway across the mutant’s waist. “Hand on the railing, Strong. Can’t do this without your help.”

The super mutant obediently grasped the railing and lifted his good leg onto the first step. “Strong will share milk when we find it. Make Leader strong too.”

“Thanks, mate,” Sasha replied, not sounding grateful at all as she kept up with the mutant’s slow ascent up the stairs. 

Hancock considered informing them that Daisy received milk deliveries from traders every Wednesday and Saturday, but something told him that Strong was talking about another kind of milk. Probably not one that normal people would want to drink. For all he knew, the mutant wasn’t talking about milk at all and it was a euphemism for something. Hancock halted the train of thought there and focused on getting the super mutant up the stairs. Even if they did not want his help, he lingered nearby. Just in case. The last thing he needed was a super mutant accidentally crushing a human in the only hotel in town. That probably wouldn’t go over well with potential customers. Then again, maybe some would be interested in staying somewhere haunted by the ghost of a woman with a funny accent. He could work with that. 

After some more bickering, they made it to the top of the stairs. Hancock bee-lined for the door to their room and swung it open. Sasha thanked him as she and Strong passed.

The room was dark and smelled of wood rot, but she did not seem to care. She walked Strong over to the only bed in the room and shoved him, the bed frame creaking under the mutant’s massive form. Sasha tossed her bag onto the floor and started to rifle through its contents. 

She retrieved a small medical kit and a syringe of Med-X. “Armor off,” Sasha requested with the detachment of a medical professional. 

The super mutant folded his arms and eyed the surgical needle between Sasha’s fingers. “Strong no need stitches.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Sasha replied. “Pants down, arse up. Let me take a look at that bite.” 

Strong growled. “No stitches.”

“ _ Yes, stitches, _ ” Sasha responded with a take-no-shit tone of voice. 

Strong made a noise that sounded like something between groan and a whine. Then, without warning, Strong pushed his pants down and flopped onto his stomach like an impatient toddler waiting for a diaper change. Except the mess consisted of torn skin, blood, and bits of fabric that stuck to the wound. 

Hancock let out a low whistle. The dark, partly congealed, blood contrasted starkly against the mutant’s bright green skin. A deep tear, surrounded by comparably lighter gashes stretched from his lower back to his upper thigh. A mutant hound bite, judging by the width. “Damn, you could bounce a cap off that thing,” he joked as if to distract from the severity of the injury.

“Not now you can’t.” Sasha pulled a white bottle and a thin towel from her bag. She splashed clear liquid in the bottle onto the towel before she dabbed around the deep cut. “Once I’m done, maybe. We can have a contest and see who can bounce a cap further. Loser buys drinks.”

Hancock smirked. “Well, hope to have that contest soon then.”

“What Strong get?” the mutant mumbled into a pillow at the head of the bed.

“Depends on who wins,” Sasha replied.

“Want blood.”

Sasha appeared unperturbed by the unsavory request. “We’ll see what we can do,” she said. With a sigh, she pulled the now bloodied rag away from Strong’s wound and turned to Hancock. “Do you know where I could get more rags? This isn’t gonna cut it.”

Hancock was about to suggest she go to Daisy’s Discounts until he remembered what Clair said. Probably not the best idea to leave Strong unattended. Not in his current state. Hancock offered a smile and pushed himself off the doorframe. “I’ll go find some,” he said.

She smiled back at him. “Thank you, Mayor.”

—

Daisy was kind enough to hand over a few spare towels, along with some medical supplies, free of charge. Claimed that it was the least she could do for them after they took care of Finn. Not that she was happy with how it all played out. Finn was a decent customer and never intended Daisy any harm. Given she had a front row seat to the chaos that unfolded earlier, she took pity on Goodneighbor’s newest guests. 

“How’s the Aussie girl doing?” she asked as she packaged the supplies into a paper bag.

Hancock raised an eyebrow. “Aussie?” 

Daisy shrugged and said, “That’s what her accent sounded like to me, but I’m old. I could have heard wrong.”

“She’s in better shape than the super mutant, that’s for damn sure,” Hancock replied. 

Daisy rolled up the top of the bag slid it across the counter. “The super mutant will be fine,” she assured. “I’ve seen them wrestle deathclaws like they were puppies. Keep an eye on the girl for me, would you? She seems like someone we want to keep around.”

Hancock tucked the bag under his arm. “Why?”

Leaning forward and resting her arms on the countertop, Daisy chuckled. “Call it a gut feeling.” 

—

By the time Hancock returned to the hotel room, Sasha had somehow transferred the super mutant from the bed to the bathtub. Drops of blood trailed from the bed to the bathroom, and speckled the white tub. Hancock’s stomach twisted at the distinct scent of copper and alcohol permeating the air in the room, masking the smell of rotting wood and smoke. 

Sasha acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. She opened a can of purified water and carefully flushed one of the deeper wounds. “Turns out, the tooth was still in there,” she explained. “Like a fucking idiot, I pulled it.”

“Yeah, not supposed to do that.” Hancock set the paper bag on the bathroom counter. Then he furrowed his brow. “At least, you’re not supposed to with bullets. I don’t think. I ain’t a doctor.”

She scoffed. “Me neither, mate. Shadowed enough field surgeons during the war that I got some idea of what I’m doing. But I mostly just handed them stuff like this.” She held up a pair of bloodied tweezers. 

Hancock crossed his arms. “The war, huh?”

“Long story. I was —”

Strong banged his fist on the side of the tub, denting the already distressed plastic casing. “Boring story! Heard enough times.”

Sasha chuckled. “Me too, mate,” she agreed and retrieved the paper bag from the counter. After rifling through the contents, she flashed a smile that would make a lesser ghoul weak in the knees. “This is more than I could have asked for. Thank you again, Mayor. I owe you.” 

There was something to her tone that made heat rise to his cheeks. Thankfully, as a ghoul, he could pass it off any redness as a side effect of radiation rather instead of a blush. Hancock swallowed. Stupid. Just a pretty girl saying ‘thank you’. Don’t look into it like a desperate teen. He crossed his arms over his chest, distancing himself, and leaned against the doorframe. “Can’t have a couple of newcomers getting the wrong idea about our little community.” 

Her smile faded for a moment, as if she was taken aback by his more professional tone. His gut twisted. Knew it. Could not trust a beautiful woman he had not had the chance to know. They were all the same. Crack a smile and make a few jokes, and guys who never had a chance with them would follow like ducklings. 

The paper bag crinkled when Sasha gathered it into her arms. “We appreciate it, Mayor,” she said. “Right, Strong?”

Strong made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a burp. 

Sasha accepted the response with a shrug. “He’ll appreciate it tomorrow.” She adjusted the bag in her arms and took a step back toward the tub. “I best take care of him,” she said.

Hancock took the hint pushed himself off of the doorframe and said, “Sure. You do what you gotta.” With his stomach still twisting uncomfortably, he started towards the door. 

The paper bag rustled and footsteps hurried behind him. “Mayor?”

Hancock turned. 

“You got any plans tonight?” Sasha moved as though she were brushing her hair behind her ear despite her hair being far too short to do so. Then she cocked her thumb toward where Strong rested in the tub. “Once I’m done with him, I’m going to want a stiff drink. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“Really the best idea leaving him alone like that?” Hancock shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to keep his expression plain as his heart sped in his chest. The lady just wanted some company and Hancock was the only person she had a chance to get acquainted with in town. Nothing more. Nothing less. Hancock swallowed excitement swelling in his gut. She wouldn’t be looking for the same kind of company most ladies in Goodneighbor asked of him. 

Sasha leaned in close to him and whispered, “the big guy doesn’t know it yet, but he’s loaded with Med-X. He’ll be out for the night.”

“You drugged him?”

“For his own good,” she said. “He won’t rest otherwise. Last thing I want is him running down to the lobby, ripping out his stitches, and screaming about needing to smash something.”

“Strong heard ‘smash’,” the mutant interjected. 

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Thank Christ for selective hearing.” She pulled away with chuckle. 

Hancock fought the smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Maybe I’ll see you down at the Third Rail then. Mayoral duties permitting, of course.” 

Her movie-star white grin returned. “Of course,” she concurred. “See you around then.” 

With that, Sasha turned back into the bathroom. When she disappeared from his sight, Hancock headed for the door and allowed the smallest smile under the shade of his hat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are appreciated, as always! They give me fuel.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and feedback are always appreciated (they fuel my writing flame).  
> I hope you enjoyed! Second chapter is in the works and involves super mutant nudity (not in a dirty way, if that’s possible, because super mutants and filthy).


End file.
